by Richard D. Engle
Preface
Prelude: Last night, I finally decided to perform a few edits on this piece. A few hours into the work, I received a phone call from my sister, who had just come back from travel, having spent a week studying with the Dali Lama. The purpose of her phone call was to inform me of the unexpected and sudden death of my step-sister Michelle. There is little to offer, but I dedicate this essay to her. Some say that God takes his favorites first. I suppose, in a way, I see some truth to that. I also dedicate this piece to Nathan Hawking, who was also waiting to see it, prior to his recent passing.
Rich Engle, September, 2006
This piece was written as a companion to my article The Challenge of Understanding Mysticism, edited by Nathan Hawking, and first published on his website, www.wethethinking.com. It was specifically written for publication on www.objectivistliving.com. Credit goes to science fiction author Michael Moorcock, from which the title was derived and the preface quote was borrowed. My deepest thanks go to maestro-of-many-talents Michael Stuart Kelly for encouraging me to write on the topic, following a number of correspondences between us covering many subjects,, including this one. I am convinced the subject of death is the most difficult one available, and I offer my writing in the spirit of rationality, reverence, and freedom.
Rich Engle,
December, 2005
* * *
When the entire world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,
All place shall be hell that is not heaven.
Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
incarnate: embodied in flesh; given a bodily, esp. a human, form. A devil incarnate.
Into this pervading genius we pass, forgetting and forgotten, and thenceforth each is all, in God. There is no higher, no deeper, no other, than the life in which we are founded. The One remains, the many change and pass; and each and every one of us is the One that remains… This is the ultimatum…
Benjamin Paul Blood: The Anaesthetic Revelation and the Gist of Philosophy (1874)
No one here gets out alive.
Generally attributed to singer/songwriter Jim Morrison
I don't do ultimatums. We all get issued one by default when were born, and I'm still a little sore about that. The rest pale by comparison; I can't take them seriously.
Rich Engle
Philosophy, William James wrote, is largely a clash of temperaments. In the battleground of ideas, I have never found a statement truer. There is more to be seen by examining the temperaments themselves.
This involves looking for commonalities in humans, which can (and must, for purpose of discussion) be reduced to a handful or less. My favorite one is this: happiness is something that anyone can understand, feel. It is the brass ring of human existence. To be generally happy in constitution, even when it is tested; when working through the thin places that life will inevitably bring forwardto be happy over the long haul. There are others.
The esteemed author and anthropologist Joseph Campbell wrote about such commonalities, and he reduced it to three, in sequence. The first is that we are born into this world, without choice, without prior knowledge of the occurrence. The second is that we are aware that there are others who have had the same thing happen to them; some of them have died, some are alive, and we can see what they are doing or have left behind. This is all inclusive, anything you can do that stays after you die (unfortunately, this is not limited to positives, or merely art, but things like totalitarian governments, bad religion, bad philosophy, in short, an epoch-ranging passel of human errors-in-action that somehow manage to outlive their creators). The third, realized somewhere down the line, is the self-knowledge that death will take us, as it did to everyone else before us (at least as far as we can figure, if you reject certain popular accounts).
When you boil it down, tha'ts pretty much it, as far as the truly major issues go; living on earth, both personal (existential), and interpersonal. That is what everyone has to run with, like it or not; any other baggage is optional: additional charges may apply.
Of those three, the third one, our pending demise, remains constant, because it is last. It is just barely more controllable than the first, because we can attempt off-putting, but it always remains a piece of business, one that that has not yet been conducted.
Because of that fact, it occupies the catbird seat for all of us, whether we acknowledge it, or not.
It rides with us wherever we go, whatever we do. That's why it has made for some great works of art and entertainment. The looming presence of death is more urgent than anything else that exists in human experience, whether it is in our foreground, middle-ground, or background; it provides for the widest range of things that humans do, which mainly involve activities to pass their time before the hammer falls down. Often, this seems to involve making misery for others attempting the same pursuits, but on better days, it drives us to achieve the heights of glory.
Death is broadband; it is omnipresent in the activities of humans, which, due to it, range out their activities from time-biding (shooting craps, say) to great works of expression (Pick anything, but for flavor, how about Mozart's Requiem?).
As much as I have attempted a circumscription of the topic, it must be said that writing, or any other form of expression, is not the main way, the visceral way that mortality is experienced by humans. It is truly, deeply felt, from the mind down to the bone. The pending loss of moments both simple and gross; the wink of an eye, the blink of understanding and recognition coming from a friend or loved one; some vision of nature, some active experience of which we partake, one in which we have become efficacious. Those are the kinds of things that will be missed. The little things of which we are aware add up. Even if we have not bothered to total them, we still have a feeling for the sum, at least if there is anything about us that is openly aware, if we have a sense of the things (not so much things, really, but people) in life that greatly please us, make us love being alive.
Each day, one way or another, we do things that affirm life, and at the same time, pee into the ocean, an ocean that will eventually bring us the final wave.
This is the situation, and we all have our ways of handling or non-handling it. As I go along more, it must be said: I am addressing all people. If I use religious terminology, or not, I am addressing all people, with no desire to persuade you into or change your existing individual consciousness. Mortality is the Big Kahuna of writing, and I have no choice but to go to my own roots.
I heard Princeton scholar and Unitarian Universalist shining star Rev. Nicole C. Kirk talked about it the morning after I began writing this piece, within her sermon. To hear Nicole Kirk speak is, I think, similar to what it would be like to hear someone like Emerson, or any other great preacher of that caliber. What she was talking about the different kinds of waiting, and by extension that would include all kinds of waiting, including waiting for death.
One way of waiting, she mentions, is whistling in the dark, and this struck me.
It is a particular type of waiting, one that involves a quiet, relaxed awareness. I believe that many people who are comfortable (as best can be) with mortality are those that know how to whistle in the dark. I believe that whistling in the dark is a virtuea strength, and it may well be my favorite way of beingwhen we talk of death. We must be comfortable enough in the darkness to whistle.
There should be said here a few words about those who have chosen or tried to take their own lives, to commit suicide. I have personal and secondary experience in this area.
For virtually all of my life, I was so fortunate as to never find myself in a place where I was so despondent as to consider taking my own life. There came a point, seconds, where the idea realized itself to me as a hard possibility, and I did not. I believe that my life force, my accumulated sense of life, prevented me from doing so. That is my personal experience. Additionally, I have lived through the successful life-taking of my own mother (blackly, the first dead body I ever viewed), and the nearly successful attempt by my then step-daughter, who came back and triumphed over the forces that first prompted her to do so.
The subject of suicide is vast. My only comments to it are that often, it is an accident, in the form of thinking, maybe an accident of too much thinking. Ultimately, it starts with disconnection. Suicide, to me, is a sickness of the soul, and the thinking preceding it is something very difficult to unravel; it is a cage of ones own design, and those are the worst, the most effective. If you do not believe in soul, then believe in the fact that you can think yourself into something that you will regret, if there is enough dark sentiment in back of it.
There are those who deny the existence of the stark sense of mortality that, on occasion, comes to any person who is of sound mind. Perhaps it is a survival mechanism that makes them deny those moments, or maybe they are just lying to themselves out of mistaken self-kindness. I have yet to find a person who, into deep conversation, has not admitted to a raw moment somewhere in their life where they have come to a state of full attention, where their sole concern and realization was the fact that they are going to someday die, probably sooner than they would prefer.
There are many distractions that keep us from these moments. In fact, humanity has made a business of distractions in general, and the reason distractions make good trade is because they offer value; namely, taking away, for a moment, the conscious presence of mortality. It is how many businesses have been built.
Philosophy is often used as such a distraction, although only the most honest of the most vigorous participants (at least those that I have ever known) would admit such a thing. So, perhaps in its own way, philosophy actually does bake some bread. I am not saying that philosophy does not have a higher purpose, but rather that the base accusations thrown at it now and again might be too severe: even in its lower moments, it is making people happy by distracting them from the thought of their death.
Within the philosophical community, and the world at large we sit in the midst of a polarized battle. It is a battle between religion, and science. Much has been written about this, and the main thing I agree on is the urgency of finding a way to allow them to exist together, in a way acceptable to each.
Moderns, atheists, scientific materialists, and so on have an answer for the mortality question, and it is simple: when it is over, it is over, game, set match, blank out and done. I find that depressing, because I like it here. Also, I find it intellectually dishonest, because they have no proof of it, being that proof is not possible. I find it odd that these folks who use a simple proof for the non-existence of God (and mind you, I am not a deist) would be surprised at the simple logic provided by the fact that no one really knows what happens after death; it is not possible, not even as accurately as we can ken things that occurred before we came into being; at least in that case we have a few epochs of accounts to work with. Try as science will, we are not, er, granular enough to talk about what goes where when life leaves us. Science says we are a piece of dead meat on a slab, and it will weigh the same, more or less, and I agree. But, it is a change of state from life to matter, and there has been very little done to look at the difference. Science, as always, as is its job, provides nothing but truth here, not meaning, and even so, only empirical data is to be had.
Traditional religion folks have answers that involve some form of afterlife; heaven of some sort. They find this cheery (assuming one ends up in the right place). I do not, because the various renditions involve things like meeting dead relatives I do not want to meet, and other oddities involved with yet another existence that partially resembles our own.
A point to be made, then, is that very few people are truly comfortable with their own mortality. It seems some do exist, and on the whole they are eminently sane, evolved folks. The rest of us who profess otherwise are liars. It is appropriate and natural to have fear when considering death.
On a raw evolutionary level, there are things that prevent us from being comfortable with death. We are engineered to not like death, and that is one reason we survive.
Philosophically, spiritually (if you believe in Spirit), it points to a simple thing, and that is to be in a place where we are comfortable with knowing that we do not know what death is. Modernists do not know, they can only postulate or chop logic. Modernists often create a logical string that gives them a comfort level that they think will make them impervious to the omnipresence of death, and it usually does not stand, despite their objections to the contrary. Religious folk generally project an unproven next world, and say this gives them comfort, but when death comes knocking, there is no comfort for them. Put a choke hold on either of them, and notice how both stances crumble as they feel their life slipping away from them.
Even a reasonable explanation such that death is part of the cycle of life gives little comfort.
Are there suggestions, are there remedies? Maybe a few passing ones. One is that more than a few of us consider the fact that we were not put here, in the first place, by our own design. So, we should already be partially comfortable with the situation of the unknown, the mystery of being. Modernists find comfort in the stark truth that science provides. Religious folks focus on meaning. Both are at odds, not only with each other, but with the fact that their own schools (if they are honest to themselves) do not 100 percent satisfy all users, when it comes to contemplating the fact that someday they will die. Perhaps this is the common ground if these two factions are to ever stop arguing. As a participant and an observer, I look to that common ground because, maybe, if more people think on it that way, they will waste less time in adversity.
Death is the ultimate mediator/negotiator. There is no negotiating with Death; it is a one-way transaction.
In Taoist thought, it is said that the warrior considers his death daily. There are two ways to live that saying, one being affirmative, and the other just damn depressing. That is the struggle; that is the paradox; that is the challenge. In the meantime, while you are figuring it out for yourself, I hope you have a warm blanket and some living creature of one kind or another close to you every night when you go down to sleep, when your mind shuts down, when it goes to the other side. That when (if) you wake up, you will be happy, and if you dont, you will die with friend(s). That last is all I have ever really gotten from contemplating mortality; that the special people in our lives are what make it not only bearable, but beautiful and loving. Truly, it is that simple for me anymore.
